Page 3 of Santa's Baby

“Ah, yeah, I remember now,” Eb says to Ella, and takes her hands, so sweet. “This was the client who said he was desperate for a companion, but ended up giving you a lump of cash for charity instead? The guy who wanted to see who would help him if he sent out a load of requests?”

Ella nods. “I thought I was helping him out for thirty quid, I really did, but no. He gave me a shit ton of money. I handed it out, too. I took it out in handfuls from the ATM and gave itto people on the street outside.” Her breath hitches. “He was amazing.”

Fuck sake. Everything isamazingto Ella. I’d usually smile at her humble, charitable soul, but unfortunately two little kids walk by holding hands and I get itchy. I shouldn’t have come. I’m so not ready yet.

Eb points to the grotto sign.

“Shall we go and see if Santa is playing Santa again this year?”

“We shouldn’t,” Ella says. “You know what the regulations say. I shouldn’t even be talking about him at all.”

Ella is such a sweetie when it comes to the rules. I roll my eyes, because we’re long past that. Sure, the rules say strictest client confidentiality at the highest cost, but we all work for the same Agency, with the same bank of clients on the user list. She can tell us she had a ‘proposal’ with Santa last year if she wants to. It’s not as if we’re going to blab it on speakerphone, and she’s hardly going to broadcast it to the mall that he’s signed up for sex services.

“You’re allowed to go to the grotto, just like everyone else,” Eb says, with a shrug. “It’ll be fun. You don’t need to acknowledge his dick or the fact you’ve seen it.”

“Ihaven’tseen it,” Ella says, surprisingly defensive. “He asked me to accompany him to a meal for thirty quid, I turned up because I thought he was lonely, and he gave me thirty grand because I came to help him. That’s all. No dick whatsoever.”

“He gave you thirty grand without even waving his dick? How rude.” I laugh, humour back for real. “I’d want at least a glimpse of Santa’s sack if I’d trekked out on a job, charity pay out or not.”

Ella looks overwhelmed, tears still welling. Bloody hell, this Santa guy must have made an impression.

“Do you want to see him again?” Eb asks her. “If he’s such a great man and didn’t so much as pay you for a hand job, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you calling by and saying hello.”

“I’d love to see him again, if it’s the same Santa.” Ella grins. “He might not remember me to be fair, even if he is.”

My laugh is a massive cackle. “Who could ever forget you?! You’ll be stamped into his spank bank for all time.”

My co-worker, Ella – known as Holly to clients – is an absolute stunner, and the girlfriend of my best friend, Josh. She’s a leggy, big titted, gothic beauty who climbed the ranks of our Agency so fast when she started last year that she’s rivalled my number one chart position in less than twelve months. I have a lot more curves on offer than she does – understatement – but that’s about all. Every single item on her ‘Naughty List’ profile is checked now. Noholesbarred.

But they weren’t when she would have done her charitable gig for sweet Santa. She was still a little Christmas angel herself, learning the dirty ropes.

My bitter hangover eases up a little.

“Come on,” I say, taking her hand, because screw it. Ella’s joy at seeing Santa is more important. “Let’s get to the grotto. I’ll sit on his lap myself if my butt will fit.”

She lets me take the lead, gripping my fingers as I march us through the mall on a mission. I can blank out happy kids’ faces for the sake of hers.

The queue at the grotto is so bloody long, I almost suggest we go for midday cocktails instead, but I don’t do it. We’re surrounded by kids desperate to see Santa Claus, but none of them are as desperate as Ella is. Santa’s little home has a cute path leading up to it with artificial grass and snow, and she’s virtually jumping on the spot every step of the way. She fans her face as we get close to the grotto doorway, mouthing to us justhow nervous she is as she steps inside. Her excited O M G lights up her whole face.

There is no doubt Santa remembers her, because it’s nearly ten minutes before Ebony gets called in for her turn. It’s supposed to be five minutes tops in with Santa. A lap sit, a quick convo, a hug for a pic, and then out the other side like a conveyor belt, but not for Ella. He’s probably been drooling all over her – charitable saviour or not. I stare at a plastic Rudolph figure while Eb has her go, getting my cash ready for the donation at the door, but Ebony’s must be an especially quick visit, because I’m called in after her in a flash. I regret my decision to visit Santa myself when I have to duck and squish past cardboard to make it through the doorway. I practically fill up the entirety of this cosy grotto with my massive curves. It’s a much smaller littlehousethan it looked from outside.

“Hey there, Santa!” I smile at the man sitting in the sleigh chair. He’s a convincing actor, with a thick beard and a padded red suit, and he can’t be all that intimidated by my size, because he taps his knee and beckons me over. “Sure,” I say. “You can have my butt, if you insist.”

It’s when I drop down into the natural straddle that I get shivers up my back – tiny whispers of WTF that give me goosebumps all up my arms. I drop my ass ontoSanta’sthighs, and his knees dig up into the back of mine in a very memorable fashion – even through my jeans. It’s weird. Really fucking weird. But it’s not just that which has my memory on autopilot, it’s the way he shifts. It’s the way he positions his hands on my waist and tugs me back against him. So distinctive… even at the slightest touch.

No.

It can’t be.

“Have you been a good girl this year?”Santaasks me, and my heart thumps so fast it feels like I’m having palpitations. I must be breaking a sweat.

The way his thighs feel under mine, and the way he shuffles, and the way his hands sit could be written off as coincidence, maybe, but some things can’t…

His voice can’t. Not in that tone.

I know it so well I struggle to breathe.

He pulls me backwards, and the tiniest bounce is enough for another slammer of recognition.

---